


Family Tea

by mechadogmarron



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, M/M, Meeting the Family (kind of), tea time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15454311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechadogmarron/pseuds/mechadogmarron
Summary: When Yuri's train runs a bit behind, Otabek has a chance to sit down and talk with Nikolai for the first time over a cup of traditional Russian tea. It's not as difficult as he thought it would be.





	Family Tea

Otabek wasn’t a nervous man — he’d always approached his problems with a hardened heart and a willingness to put the time and effort in. Even with Yuri, he’d never been _anxious_ , really; either it would work out, or it wasn’t meant to be. He wasn’t exactly a man of faith, not devoutly, but he could take comfort in that. He was calm, cool, collected; he was prepared to deal with the stress of the world of athletics, of knowing how much rode on him.

He was not, however, prepared to deal with the stress of spending time with his boyfriend’s grandfather without said boyfriend present for the first time.

They’d seen each other before, shared a few quick words at competition, had dinner with Yuri, but they’d never sat down together and really talked, having never been together for more than a few minutes without Yuri there. Listening to him ramble on about the other skaters and the programs and cats he'd seen was a bonding activity, but not in the same way actually conversing was. But now his boyfriend was running late ( _train_ _’s behind, sorry — go ahead on your own don’t be late_ ) and he was standing outside the door of Nikolai Plisetsky’s apartment on his own with nothing but a container of tea cakes to provide as a buffer.

He rang the doorbell, and a man came to greet him.

Nikolai Plisetsky was short, even without his slight hunch, broader than his grandson, who had inherited his strong, wiry form from his mother — and her grandmother before her. He wore a wry smile that gave a sense of wit, despite his quiet nature. He wasn’t a particularly imposing man, but just knowing how important he was to Yuri made Otabek feel a little imposed.

“It’s good to see you, Otabek. Where’s Yurochka?”

“His train was delayed. He didn’t want us to be late or for you to have to worry, so he asked me to come without him. He’ll be by as soon as he can, but…”

“I don’t think anyone could make the trains run on time. Come on in.”

The apartment was small, appropriately sized for a widower without anyone to take care of, but still large enough to be nice, accommodating a surprisingly nice television and a well-worn but still comfortable sofa in the living room, alongside a small kitchenette. No door to an office that he could see, just a bed and a bath, but at Nikolai’s age there wasn’t such a need for one. The appliances looked like they were at least a decade old, but still in good repair, except for a more recent electrical samovar, one of the expensive modern ones — a gift from the two of them last Christmas. The kitchen table had three chairs pulled up, sturdy old wooden things clearly built to last.

“Is there somewhere I should set these down?”

“You can put them on the kitchen table. Did you bake those?”

“Yes, with Yuri. Several of us skaters have actually started an online group to swap recipes. This one is based on one of my former rinkmate’s family favorites. They don’t have much sugar, so as long as you don’t go overboard, one or two is fine even during the skating season. We often have them with tea.”

“Ah, you skaters are always thinking about health. The doctor says I should be careful, but you’ve got to have some joy in your life.” He pressed a button on the samovar, starting up the hot water. “Did Yuri say how late he was running?”

“No, but I can ask.” _How far behind?_

 _Probably 20 minutes or so_ , his phone dinged almost immediately. _Don_ _’t worry, Grandpa’s awesome_.

“Twenty minutes.”

“That’s not so bad. Did you drive?”

“I did, but I came straight from the airport. Yuri had to meet with a sponsor, and he still can’t drive, not that we would have necessarily wanted to rent two cars anyways. We’ve had problems at home too, though. It seems like no matter where you are, trains don’t run on time, and I only own the motorcycle.”

“He’s always been independent. I can’t imagine that motorbike of yours is too comfortable in the winter, either!”

“No, Russia is quite a bit colder than Almaty. We really need to buy a car, but they’re awfully expensive, and Yuri likes to be careful with his money. Which is great, it’s important not to overspend, but it’s hard to get a good deal without spending a lot, and I don’t think I’m used enough to Russia to shop for a car on my own. It’d be nice, though — I know he loves the motorcycle, but it’s not really meant for two.”

“I can imagine the issue. It’s a shame you live so far from Moscow, though. I might be old but I still know how to put a little fear into those dealership men. You two deserve something nice. ”

“Ah, that would be nice. I hate taking Yuri places when the roads are icy, so we mostly stay in or take the train, but that’s a little more restrictive. I should really just get him to come with me, but…”

Nikolai smiled. “I’m glad to hear you two are being careful.” At the sound of the samovar beeping, he turned to take out a tea set, clearly vintage. It was decorated with a bright floral pattern, and lacked the built-in infusers common in modern versions; the steel mesh basket he added to it was quite a bit more recent. He pinched out a heaping portion of leaves, no need to measure — a mix of short black tea proper and dried flower petals, rose and marigold. Once he was satisfied at how they filled up the tiny pot, he poured the hot water, not bothering to set a timer, before placing the pot atop the samovar to keep it warm. “How are you settling into Saint Petersburg? It’s a beautiful city.”

“It really is. I miss Almaty sometimes, but we’re planing to spend part of the off-season there. It makes more sense with our coaching needs this way, and my family won’t mind putting the two of us up for a couple weeks if we can’t find something more long-term. They all love Yuri, of course; I think my mom was starting to get afraid I’d die alone, but even if she hadn’t I don’t think anyone could dislike him.”

“Ah, I used to worry the same about my Yurochka. It’s just part of being a family. You’d better put a ring on it soon!”

Otabek let out a started laugh. Well, at least Nikolai seemed to like him! “Of course. I didn’t want to spring it on him during the season, you know — it’s considered bad luck. Sure didn’t work out for poor JJ, back in 2015. The last thing I want to do is make him nervous before a competition. We’ve only been together for a year, so there’s no rush — we have all the time in the world.”

“Ah, good. Let me know when you do. It’ll be nice to have the family grow. It’s been decades since it did anything but shrink.” _Not since Yuri was born_ was unspoken.

“I’m honored to be a part of it. I know I just said this, but my whole family is.”

“Are you planning on getting married there, or here?”

“I can’t really make those plans without Yuri, and I don’t know if he’ll say yes. But it’s important to me that both of our families can be there. If that can’t happen in one wedding, we’ll have to have two.”

“He’ll say yes, don’t worry.” Nikolai smiled wistfully. “It’s obvious just from being around you two at your competitions how besotted you are. His grandmother and I had known each other for far less long than you two have when we were married, but I knew from the start she was the right one.”

“Thank you.” Otabek offered a rare smile. “It’s a shame we haven’t had a chance to catch up more.”

“It is.” He looked back to the teapot, glancing at the tea before removing the infuser. “So what are these little cakes you’ve brought?”

“They’re an American cookie called a Russian tea cake. Canadians eat them, too. They’re usually coated in sugar twice, but we skaters only coat them once, or sometimes not at all. I first had them at a rinkmate’s Christmas party; I was delighted to finally get a recipe.”

“A Russian tea cake?”

“They’re definitely not Russian, but JJ wasn’t sure where they’d gotten their name. He thought it was awfully funny when Yuri cussed him out about it.” He stood to take his tea from Nikolai; the elderly man allowed him to pour a portion of the extremely strong brew into a teacup before filling it the rest of the way with remaining hot water from the samovar and taking a couple of the small cookies to enjoy alongside it. “It’s not traditional, but they’re quite good with jam.”

He took a sip of his tea — smooth, a little bitter, with a romantic, floral profile, a delicious combination with the crunchy, almost savory-sweet cookies he’d brought. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Otabek’s phone dinging broke the silence. _Almost there see you soon_ , Yuri had sent him. He smiled. “Yuri’s on his way.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad you two could visit. I know how busy a skating life can be.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m only sorry we’ve never gotten a chance to visit together before. The tea is excellent.”

“I’ve been making it for a very long time. It’s Yuri’s favorite. Back in the day, we used to drink it and watch TV together — he liked the English shows, and I didn’t mind reading the subtitles.”

“It’s a good way to learn a language, as long as you don’t lean on the text too much,” Otabek agreed. “There’s not a lot of Kazahk programming, but of course everyone speaks Russian too. I never watched much television, but I remember my brother and sister and cousins all fighting for the remote.”

“A big family?”

“Two siblings, but lots of cousins.”

“That’s nice. We just had Yuri’s mother, and she just had Yuri. It was nice that I could devote all my attention to him, but I did always worry. He never had friends his age.”

“It’s difficult to make friends when you have so much drive, I think. He’s always seemed to get on well with his rinkmates, though.” Otabek smiled. “My mother thinks he’s adorable. She keeps asking me how I ended up with someone so clearly out of my league.”

Nikolai laughed. “Your family sounds nice. I’d love to meet them sometime.”

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you, too.” A Plisetsky-Altin get-together, now there was a thought. They all spoke Russian, so it wouldn’t be impossible. He was older, but they could fly him out. Maybe for the wedding — it would be weird for Yuri if none of his family could be there, anyways.

It was then that the door knocked, a familiar voice shouted “Coming in!”, and Yuri Plisetsky — Grand Prix Gold medalist Yuri Plisetsky, Russian Fairy Yuri Plisetsky, world’s best boyfriend Yuri Plisetsky, number one grandchild Yuri Plisetsky — burst in the door.

It was a good thing they’d bought the electric samovar, because by the time Yuri had finished going through his very animated tale of public transportation failures, it would have otherwise gone cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The tea described here is the traditional Russian style as I understand it, but that said I don't know how commonplace it is anymore, and information translated into English is not always the most accurate. My personal area of interest is a particular relatively modern (circa 1700s) type of Chinese tea service, which is quite a bit removed from the Russian style. The tea as described is the type most popular with Russian immigrants in my area, but similarly may be less popular with people who live in Russia. 
> 
> As always, you can catch me on tumblr at mecha-dog-marron if you have any questions or requests (or you can leave a comment!)


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